


The Knights of the Table

by DrJackAndMissJo



Series: Balinor's weekly reviews [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur!Chef and Merlin!journalist, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food Critic AU, Gwaine is sensitive about his hair, Light Angst, M/M, mentions of Gwen (Merlin), mentions of Uther (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-15 01:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18488173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJackAndMissJo/pseuds/DrJackAndMissJo
Summary: 'Can you even believe this guy?" Gwaine asked, offended and almost breathless as he popped himself on Percival’s counter.There was no need for any of the other men to ask who he was talking about. Everyone knew about the devilish creature that wrote the restaurant and food reviews on Camelot Weekly.“What makes you even think it’s a guy?” asked Lance as he took the newspaper from the Irish man, “I’m pretty sure that it is a demon sent straight from hell to torture all of us!”





	1. Monday morning

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I do not own shit, the characters belong to BBC and I just came up with the concept.  
> Thank you and enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur... Head Chef, mostly meats and fishes  
> Leon... Souschef and prepares meats and fishes as well  
> Lancelot... Firsts, pasta and risotti and paella  
> Percival... Desserts  
> Gwaine... Host, the one that brings the clients to their tables. He does barbeque every Saturday, mostly in drag and with a lei Hawaiian neckless and with Lilo and Stitch's soundtrack playing in the background

Gwaine barged in the kitchen like he had just seen a ghost and was now running from it.

“Can you even believe this guy?” he asked, offended and almost breathless as he popped himself on Percival’s counter.

There was no need for any of the other men to ask _who_ he was talking about. Everyone knew about the devilish creature that wrote the restaurant and food reviews on _Camelot Weekly_.

“What makes you even think it’s a guy?” asked Lance as he took the newspaper from the Irish man, “I’m pretty sure that it is a demon sent straight from hell to torture all of us!”

A murmur of approval passed through all of them, Leon began sharpening his knives with a murderous gleam in his eyes as Percival came to rest next to his husband.

“Who were the poor unfortunate souls this time, Lance?” Arthur asked in the softest voice possible and winced as he recognised the name: a rather big place, fancy and way overpriced that had stolen a lot of clientele. On normal circumstances, they would’ve laughed and thrown everything they had against them, but those were not normal circumstances.

Every single person in Camelot knew of Balinor, the penname behind a faceless monster that every Monday published its review about a different restaurant. It was abrasive and captivating in its writing, offered explanations and sometimes solutions in its texts, but only after having talked shit about the week’s unlucky losers. It was rather impartial and praised where the food was great and the atmosphere good, but had a sharp pen and not a single ounce of mercy in its withered body. To be fair, it did its job meticulously and expected the others to do theirs rather perfectly as well, but many didn’t and suffered the consequences.

This review, in particular, was brutal, highlighting all the many flaws the rival restaurant had. Arthur himself had seen and tasted their plates the week before on a date with his boyfriend Merlin and didn’t held back anything on the critics he had about food and locale, but still, seeing something like that written down brought a series of unpleasant feelings down the young man’s spine. Merlin had then listened carefully to everything he had said, nodding and agreeing before changing the topic of the conversation, not wanting their dinner to be ruined more by the terrible service.

The five men settled back into their routines, cleaning their positions and reviewing their different specialities.

“Okay so, I did my calculations.” called a rather gloomy Leon after a moment of silence. “I’m afraid this week it’s gonna be us. He has targeted places in the old alphabetical order, with little variation  inside the letter.”

“In English Leon, I can’t understand your posh way of speaking on a regular basis, never mind with all this sadness all around us!” said Gwaine with a taunting smile on his lips. That man loved nothing more than to tease and flirt with anything that breathed, but he was also loyal to a fault and so deeply in love with Percival that he was hard to believe in his vocal misdemeanours. He did charm every customer easily, which was the main reason why Arthur decided to put him as Host.

Leon, his sous-chef and one of his eldest friends, counted loudly till ten in reaction to Gwaine’s insolence, combing mindlessly a hand into his hair before sighing loudly. “Balinor so far went to half the places in town, apparently at random but his order is alphabetical, using the letters of the old language.” He threw a sideways glance at the Irish, before continuing “ABC but remixed, that sort of things, Gwaine.”

Being a mature man, he simply stuck his tongue out at the blond, but encouraged him to go on with his speech. “Now, last week he went to the only place whose name started with J, _The Joust_. Tell me, Gwaine. What letter comes after J in the regular alphabet? And don’t worry, take your time singing in your head!”

“I DON’T NEED TO!” yelled offended Gwaine as everyone else in the room began laughing, “It’s K. I know that, but why do you think it’s gonna be us this week and not the next one if he follows this old shit?”

“Cause in the old alphabet after J comes K and we’re the only place that starts with a K.” answered Arthur, defeat thick in his voice.  
A dark chuckle came from Percival, “We really had to call ourselves _The Knights of the Table_ , didn’t we?”

“Is it too late to change it into the _Z-knights_?” asked Lancelot, trying to lighten the mood.

“We would’ve been on the fourth letter then, instead of midway.” said calmly Arthur mimicking Gwaine’s stance and sitting on his counter. “We only have to accept our destiny, guys.”

“Should we put more effort into what we’re doing this week, you know, just to be sure?” questioned Percy, flexing the muscles in his arms as he tended to do whenever he felt nervous.

“Nah.” Leon replied “We’d just end up royally screwing something. I say we die the way we lived!”

“Drunk, scared and hopeless?”

“I said we, Gwaine,  not you personally. I meant fighting and cooking as well as we can!”

“Leon’s right.” Arthur said popping off the counter, “We know our values and anyone else’s opinion on us doesn’t matter. Whatever mythical creature might appear, we will face it and slay the beast!”

A chorus of agreement replied back to him and he smiled at his friends.

They had helped him during tough times, Leon and Lance being there since high school. Gwaine and Percival came gradually, but immediately became part of his chosen family. It was only thanks to their insistence and annoying behaviours that he had finally found the courage inside of him to ask Merlin out and they backed him up when he came out to his Father, helping him get the fractions of himself that the man had shattered with his reaction back in place.

 With time, Uther Pendragon managed to change his mind and accept his son for who he truly was, but the dent was still there and Arthur could only consider as ‘family’ the four men he worked with and the kind writer he had met at one of Gwaine’s parties.  Arthur would always remember fondly how Merlin had spilled his wine all over his sweater and how he spent hours trying to wash the piece of clothing to not leave a stain while Arthur was grumpy and cold without his sweater.

 _“We’ve all been through a lot”_ Arthur thought while getting ready to work for the lunch rush, _“This thing will not stop us. Besides, you need to have bad food to get a bad review, and we have none of that!”_


	2. Monday night

Arthur deposited his keys on the little table they had in the foyer of their apartment before calling to his boyfriend.

He and Merlin had been dating for three years and moved in together one year prior. It was logical, that way they had to pay less rent and Arthur’s landlord wanted to sell the house now that his mortgage was paid, but they were also completely and madly in love with each other and when Merlin asked the other man to move into his little place in the centre, Arthur didn’t need to be told twice.

After having discarded his coat in the closet, he made his way towards the living room, where he found his boyfriend sitting at the dinner table, focused on a blank page. He held his head in the palm of his hands and looked absolutely wrecked.

Arthur’s heart gave a sharp tug at the image as he came around the raven haired man and hugged him from behind, burying his head in the crook of his neck, leaving chaste kisses everywhere his lips could reach.

“How was work today?” asked Merlin, moving a hand to play with Arthur’s blonde locks.

“Erratic as usual. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” came the muffled reply. “Yours?”

“I had a meeting in the morning about the topics for the next issues and they finally gave me something worth of my time!” he exclaimed in a cheerful way, despite his momentary gloomy attitude.

“What is it?” asked Arthur, curiosity sweeping over.

“A politic piece for the daily paper, but I’ll also write something for the next _Weekly_.”

Camelot was a rather big city, remains of an elder time merged finely with the modern technologies and innovations. As such, it was a centre of culture and tradition and held enough power to have interesting schemes and plays for control. It had its own newspaper, that was divided in two sections: during the week, it was daily and covered the serious matters, as well with sport and other less important stuff; every week, on Monday morning, they published the Camelot Weekly, where they would put cooking recipes and gossip and tips on how to do stuff and, of course, the infamous Balinor’s critical piece. Each journalist that worked there could write for either papers and a commission choose who had to write what, Merlin had explained one night, in the beginning of their relationship. The only one that had a steady page and a steady published spot was the demon, that so far had taken no vacation from his food critic job and had never written anything else in any papers.

It had appeared out of nowhere a little over a year before, writing its first review of a little family owned a sandwich shop called _Abemus Fames._ It became a phenomenon, the text full of details and very well written, that found both vices and virtues in everything. Every week came a new review and, with time, everyone inside the world of culinary Camelot came to fear and loathe the creature. There were bets going on, some claiming it was a woman and some a man, some that it was more than one person while others claimed it was completely alien.

For months Arthur had tormented Merlin to let him know who this thing was, he just wanted to talk after all! But the writer had been adamant.

 _‘I could lose my job if I told you!’_ was the usual reply, followed by a coy smile on the writer’s lips. Secrecy was a very well used weapon inside the walls of Camelot and whoever could use it tended to exploit it as much as they could.  
So, the reviews kept on coming and the identity of the monster remained hidden.

“When is your political piece coming up?” asked the blond man, removing himself from his boyfriend and sitting next to him, taking his hand in his.

“I gotta hand it over tomorrow morning at the latest.” he replied with a quiet and calm voice, that indicated Arthur that he was more than confident in his work.

Still, he wanted to know a few more details about his boyfriend’s progress, “So you’re gonna pull an all-nighter?”

“No, I already finished it.” Merlin said, a cocky smile on his lips as he leaned back into the chair, “I was about to start working on the piece for Monday, which is probably gonna take me a week to do!”

“Well then, let’s not worry much for the rest of the night. I brought leftovers from the restaurant and Percy made extra chocolate pudding.”

Merlin’s face lit up completely, “I cannot say no to Percy’s chocolate pudding, can I? That would be totally rude!”

Arthur laughed freely as the two men moved to set the table in the small kitchen, hands still woven in together.

They worked in silence, handing each other the recyclable plastic containers that his restaurant used when clients wanted to bring their food home or ordered directly to take out. Gwaine wanted to put a logo or the name of the restaurant on them, but Lancelot insisted on leaving them blank, stating that decorations might cause the plastic to not be considered recyclable. _‘Do you want all the turtles to die, you Irish Monster?!’_ he said while branding a metal spatula angrily towards him.

The entire crew cracked jokes at both their expenses for well over a month afterwards.

“I called your father earlier, for some insight on the article.” Merlin said while they were seated and Arthur stopped his fork full of pasta midair at the sentence.

Truth to be told, Merlin was the reason he and his father were slowly fixing the rift in their relationship. When he had introduced Merlin officially to him, the writer had charmed the socks off the seasoned politician with disarming questions and pointed sneaky remarks.

From that moment forward, Uther Pendragon had no more problems about his son’s partner and actually enjoyed spending time with them. And by them, he meant Merlin with Arthur as the third wheel as they talked politics and gossip. Not that he minded in the slightest.

“I needed some inside information about something likely shady going on and he was more than happy to provide them.” explained the raven haired man.

“I see. And I suppose this concerned a rival of his?” he asked taking a sip of his wine.

“Not quite. Several people are involved, but tomorrow morning’s just gonna be the appetizer, as you might say.”

“You’re milking the story?” he inquired raising the arch of one of his brows. Merlin was an amazing and captivating writer, but he tended to go overboard sometimes. Whenever he wrote fiction, it was glorious and left him wanting constantly more of his stories, but an article on the papers...

“Merely creating suspense, love. That’s what I was told to do: gather information, put them down and then pass the torch to an elder writer with more experience. This way I still come up on top on the news, but don’t ‘tarnish’ my name for future references.” he said putting air quotes. He positively looked like the cat who got the saucer:“Besides, it’s gonna be explosive once the truth comes fully out of the closet!”

“Reminds me of some past events.” Arthur said dryly, a little bit of amusement in his voice. That earned him a light kick in the leg from the other man, but he didn’t acknowledge it, choosing instead to intertwine their fingers together.

“Okay, let’s change the topic. Balinor’s a bastard.” the blond said without much warning.

The writer was momentarily taken aback. The cruel demon was usually one of their topics each Monday, Merlin never reading his articles to have Arthur explained them in an enraged tone that ended in defeat, as the monster was usually right about his complaints.

“What did he do this time?” asked Merlin, holding tightly his own glass of wine and bringing it up to his mouth to take a sip.

“Remember that place we went to the other night, _The_ _Joust_?”

Only a nod in reply.

“I’m pretty sure whatever creature that thing is, it was there the same night as us and probably ears dropped our conversation!”

Maybe he had said it too loudly and violently and startled his poor boyfriend, but Merlin spit out, cartoon style-ish, the wine he was just drinking. “NO WAY IN HELL!” he said after having wiped his mouth, leaving a sly smile on his lips.

“YES! When Lance read the article I heard the same complaints I had told you at dinner, only with different more posh words. The meat was overcooked and soggy and your pasta was simply awful...” he began, moving his fork midair in slow circles as he listed the flaws he could remember about the food. They stayed hours that night discussing how horrible and claustrophobic the atmosphere in there was, Merlin being personally traumatized by the dark bathrooms.

“Yeah, I remember. You were totally upset cause that place is a cheap but more expensive version of you guys... or so you say.” he remarked, almost sounding sarcastic even though Arthur knew he meant well, although he had never actually been to his restaurant.

“You eat our food all the time Mr! Stop complaining or I’ll tell Percy you don’t like his pudding!” came the not so veiled threat that had the writer bend slightly over the table to look viciously in his eyes.

“You wouldn’t dare, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Try me, Merlin Emrys.”

They were now in the middle of a staring contest, neither of one wanting to lose and give in by initiating the inevitable make out session in the middle of the kitchen just yet.

Out of the blue, Merlin’s phone rang and he inevitably lost, making Arthur raise his fist up in victory and earning a burning glare from his boyfriend.

“Hello?...Yes, sir. I already planned it, I’m going there on Thursday evening. That will leave enough time to write the article... Indeed... Yes, sir, I’ve already sent the one for tomorrow... Goodnight, sir.”

“One of the bosses?”

“Yeah, he wanted to make sure I had everything planned for the _Weekly_ article.”  
“It’s not going to be another ‘ _How to’_ or a _‘List of YA novels that you should definitely read!’_ ”

“Gods no! Although I had a lot of fun writing those!”

“They usually let you only co-author on the Weekly, though. Edit and small parts. This time you’re doing it all by yourself?”

“I don’t know yet, I was just told what to cover and not to worry about it much.”

“At least you’re not that jerk Balinor. I hate that monster.”

A chuckle left the writer’s mouth, before he filled it with food once more.

They kept on eating in silence, until Arthur broke it. “Leon thinks we’re gonna be next on its hit list.”  
“Oh, really? How come?” curiosity latched to his words.

“He thinks this demon is following the alphabet used by the old religion.”

“That would be... Hold on, how does Leon know about the old religion’s letters?” asked Merlin, abruptly changing the sentence he was about to say originally. He did it quite often, his mind going multiple places at once.

Arthur simply shrugged, “He got bored one day at school and read a book about it. We then used the order of the letters to write shit and pass time during class when we were in high school.”

“I can’t believe you never told me about this!”

“I thought you knew! I literally organized the pantry with that lettering system!”

“In my defence, I’ve never opened the spices cabinet or the pantry in our kitchen. Live, **ever**.”

They were both grinning like idiots now. Amusement lit both their eyes as they got up to clean their dinner table.

Again, a comfortable silence entrapped them, only this time it was broken by Merlin:“For what it’s worth, I’m sure you’re gonna do great whenever this _demon,_ as you kindly call Balinor, will come and enjoy delicious your food and all.”  
“Thanks. I’m whipping Gwaine into shape so he can’t embarrass us. I don’t know if the review is gonna come this week or not, mainly because I think it uses a random system.”

“What about Leon’s idea?”

“Would work, but some letters are in different positioning altogether.”

Merlin looked sheepishly at his shoes and eventually spoke, “Maybe Balinor’s not that great at the old letterings.”

Arthur hugged his boyfriend loosely, leading them to their shared bedroom laughing.

 _‘I sure hope so.’_ he thought to himself once they were both tucked in for the night.


	3. Thursday evening

“Mate, why didn’t you tell us that your boo was coming?” Gwaine called swinging open the door to the kitchen.

To be fair, both Lance and Arthur raised their heads in surprise.

“Not your wife Gwen, Lancelot Du Lac.” he said waving a hand in dismissal as if to send away a noisy fly.

“Your boyfriend’s here, Princess.”

‘ _Wait, What in hell? What’s Merlin’s doing here?!?’,_ his mind ran a mile trying to catch the meaning of what was happening.

“He had a work appointment tonight.” he admitted in a whisper that was almost swallowed by the sounds of the kitchen working its full shift.

Arthur set down the knife he was using and began to look around the kitchen, looking for an explanation in his friend’s faces.

Lance moved closer to him, a hand on his shoulder in a way that was supposed to ground him and calm him, and said quietly :“Maybe he was done early and decided to come over and surprise you.”

“He was surprised too. Shocked to see me actually! He looked at me like I was a ghost as soon as I greet him.” said Gwaine, now fully inside the kitchen with the door closed behind him. In the room, the staff of waiters and waitresses took orders and filled glasses. That included Merlin’s, who had chosen a white wine and was carefully looking at the menu. The scene was surreal, the atmosphere even weirder considering that they were looking at him throw a double sided fish tank, that allowed them to see the room and blocked the kitchen from the sight of the guests.

Arthur’s eyes never left Merlin’s pensive face as he admitted, after trying to remember exactly _why_ that was important, “I never told Merlin where we worked.”

Everyone froze immediately. Gears shifted inside Arthur’s head and the world collapsed all around him.

It all made sense now: why he was always quick at changing the subject whenever he spoke of Balinor; the way sometimes their dates were in restaurants that would appear in the review the Monday after; how he laughed every time Arthur insulted his critic alter ego; why he was always writing something for _Camelot Weekly_ , although he only claimed to review and add part to other’s articles and why he was always vague about their topics.

And that was the reason why he had never asked where he worked. The subject came sometimes during their first dates, but Merlin always skimmed over, claiming it wasn’t important.

That was over three years prior. Merlin and his editors were planning the Balinor stuff since three years earlier, even more. He did admit on their first month or so together that he was being cast to do something quite big and possibly controversial, definitely long term. But they never spoke of it again.

Burning Hell, he had even mentioned once that his late father’s name was _Balinor_ , for fuck’s sake!

Arthur had never been more hurt in his entire life. He felt stupid and played and...

“Arthur? Are you okay?” asked a worried Leon, moving closer to him. But the blond simply held up a hand to stop him, “Everyone get back to work immediately. It doesn’t matter, we got people to serve.”

The other man resumed their positions, Gwaine leaving the kitchen as orders began to pour.

His body was working on muscle memory alone, his mind too busy processing that Merlin, his sweet beloved boyfriend who stole his sweaters and read on the couch with feet under his perfect butt, was also the vile and brutal and ‘ _I should really stop calling him all those names_ ’ Balinor, aka the man that tormented their nightmare with his ruthlessness.

He was blind to all the signs that were there, shining in broad light.

He didn’t know how to feel, what to feel.


	4. Thursday night/Friday Morning

The night passed in a blur, he didn’t register much, only the meats and fishes in front of him. He specifically asked the guys not to say the number of the tables, just to concentrate on their plates and on the food and on nothing else.

They all worked incredibly hard, since they left the military together after serving for three years. They had this shared little dream that they had achieved with many sacrifices and they were all incredibly happy and successful.  
Merlin could take away only one of those things from him.

Arthur was the last one to leave, as usual. But this time he took his time, cleaning and sharpening his knives and dreading the moment he walked through the door of their, originally Merlin’s, apartment.

Eventually, he finished all the possible futile things he could’ve done there. The clock signalled two in the morning. He was positive he’d find Merlin already asleep in the bed, as he had to wake up early in the morning to go to the redaction.

He closed the doors, locking them all and checking them twice just to delay the inevitable. He then left from the front one, the same entrance their customers used to get in and out after their meals. The same one the love of his life used to walk in there and shatter his heart and all his hopes.

“Took you long enough.” called a voice on his right.

He didn’t need to turn around to see who it belonged to. Merlin was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, casual attire that wouldn’t have drawn suspicions and he had a red scarf wrapped around his neck to fight off the cold weather.

“I’ve been waiting outside for more than two hours, you clot pole! Could’ve at least texted me to warn me you’d clean your whole gods-damned kitchen!”

He was beyond speechless. Didn’t even know how to think anymore. Merlin was simply there, hands in his pockets, chilling and waiting for him as if nothing had happened.

But something did happen, something huge and monumental and for a second all Arthur wanted to do was rush to his boyfriend’s side and hold him close.

If only his traitorous heart wasn’t feeling so betrayed and pierced and broken; if only his feet allowed him to move and do what he truly wanted.

Instead, he only stood his ground, crossing his arms to hide his trembling hands. The night wasn’t particularly cold, maybe chilly at best, but the air all around them froze. Time stopped for Arthur Pendragon, as he was staring at Merlin with rage in his eyes.

“Is everything okay, Art?” he asked, using one of the several nicknames that he’d given him along the years. _“It all makes sense now!”_ he’d said one night drunk on the rooftop of the blond’s former apartment _“I shall call you Art, because you sir are indeed  a work of art!”_

“You’re serious right now? _Is everything okay?!_ NO, IT’S NOT!” his mind had wanted to keep a polite and detached discussion about this, acting mature and understandable, but is emotion took control and lead in the other opposite direction.

“Are you seriously doing this? It’s not the end of the world.” Merlin said, moving closer with an aura of nonchalance around him. “So what if I’m the monster Balinor, I’m still me!”.

 _‘As if that isn’t the worst thing that has ever happened to me.'_ He felt the world collapse all around himself, "You're not even denying it!"

"Is there a point in denying the obvious?"

Arthur felt his throat constrict and he chocked up around the words:“You lied to me.”

“I omitted some truths and changed the topics sometimes, but I never lied about this.” he said, cautious but now very close to the blond’s body. “I only lie when I steal your food and finish all the hot water in the shower, and you know that!” he admitted in a hushed tone, to lighten up the mood

Arthur jumped back several paces and raised his voice, a total contrast to Merlin’s demeanour. “BULLSHIT. Call it omission or whatever, but you still  didn’t tell me.”  
“And why do you think that is? ‘ _Oh, by the way, I’m Balinor, the food critic that you hate so much and refuse to even acknowledge as something other than hellspawn. Do you still want that last slice of pizza?’_ ” he asked, each word dripped in sarcasm and laced with hurt.

“Yeah, cause that was the only way to let me know this tidbit of shit.”

The writer run a hand over his face, as if to smudge his own features. He looked demolished, defeated and lost. “Look,” he began, darting his tongue out of his mouth to wet his lips, “I couldn’t tell you cause the chief editor wanted my identity to be a secret and told me I’d get fired if I revealed it to anyone. Only mom knew about this.”

“So what, am I supposed to pity you cause you’re gonna get fired cause we all know that you’re that bastard?” an adamant wall began to form around Arthur’s head, to protect him.  
“I didn’t expressly tell you, did I?” he asked, daring a little smile, “Besides, you handled the situation well in there. As soon as I saw Gwaine disappear in the back I assumed you’d come marching in the front and kill me with your butcher’s knives!”. He laughed a little, probably to ease the tension that had created between them.

Arthur was beyond offended, :“Why the fuck are you laughing, this is fucking serious!”

“C’mon Arthur. You know me, don’t pretend you didn’t see this coming. I gave you all the clues and all to let you figure it out. You think I didn’t wanna tell you, when you were constantly talking shit about me. I couldn’t say shit and some of the things you said really stung sometimes, but I love my job and I love you and I didn’t want to lose either.”

He threw his hands up in exasperation:“Well then, great fucking job, living a double life like this.”

“It wasn’t a double life for fuck’s sake! I’m not a fucking villain in your story with a twist. I’m just a guy that writes stuff in the paper. Besides, you always finish your rants about Balinor by telling me that he’s right, although a little bit harsh.” he finished with a wink, as if that would’ve made the situation better.

“That is beyond the point! One thing in agreeing with some old grey dude, another is sleeping next to him every night!”

Merlin shook his head, eyes closed and his voice barely a whisper:“Don’t make this more complicated than it already is...”

“And you know what? Monday I told you we were gonna be next. So you knew it was gonna be me and you still showed up!”

Arthur threw his best accusatory glance at the writer, who simply stared back in amusement and disbelief.

“In my defence, you and Leon were right about the order, which is why I came here tonight. I did mix the letters in order to have K after J.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? IN THE OLD ALPHABET K COMES AFTER J FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” he raised his voice, thinking that maybe that would convey his emotional turmoil better.

If only the other man hadn’t raised his voice as well. “ARE YOU BLOODY DAFT? IN THE OLD FUCKING ALPHABET FIRST COMES J THEN L THEN K YOU FUCKING MORON. I REMIXED THEM TO KEEP THINGS SPICY IN CASE SOMEONE FIGURED OUT THE PATTERN!”

Now Arthur was lost.

“I thought what you said on Monday meant your place started with an L, which is why I was surprised to see bloody Gwaine as Host leading me to a table. When I took the reservation I spoke with a waitress, not with him and I didn’t recognise the voice. I wasn’t expecting any of this tonight and I was actually looking for a way to go around the restaurants whose names began with L, which mind you are a shitton in here, with other people, work guys and you and maybe Gwen. I was trying to find a way to not reveal myself and still do a good job. I even thought about sending someone else to write the review, but that wasn’t really an option.”

Merlin had laid all his weapons down on the table, waiting for him to reply and do the same, hope glimmering in his bright blue eyes.

But Arthur couldn’t bring himself to do the same.

They both waited patiently in front of the restaurants for a few minutes, before eventually Merlin sighed and said :“Take your time to figure this shit out. I guess I’ll just wait for your answer. I’ve probably done more damage in one night than ever in my entire life.”

And with that and a dry laugh, he simply walked away, vaguely towards the direction of their shared apartment.

But Arthur couldn’t bring himself to move. He was glued on the sidewalk and was staring blankly at the empty spot Merlin had left.

He couldn’t go back home that night, didn’t know if he wanted to even.

So he simply began to walk in the opposite direction, taking his phone out and calling a person that would surely help him deal with the madness all around him.


	5. Friday morning

The first thing he realized when he woke up was the missing heat from Merlin’s body.

The second thing was that he had not spent the night in their king-sized bed, he realized face flat on a carpet next to a coffee table as he had turned around searching for his boyfriend. He had slept on a red leather couch, an IKEA blanket the only thing to keep him warm.

He couldn’t remember what had happened, too early in the morning to think properly.

“Good, you’re up. Or should I say down on the floor?” his sister’s voice came chirpily, despite the early hour.

He merely turned around, settling more comfortably on the carpet and pretending to go back to sleep, “Morgana, I love you but shut the fuck up.”

“I will not do such a thing!” was her only reply as she moved to sit on the couch, a steaming cup clutched in her hands. She took a small sip, testing whether or not it was still too hot. “I take it as you don’t remember shit.”  
“No, I do.”. Everything came crashing down onto him: the restaurant, the fight, reaching his sister’s place in tears as she listened to him before telling him to sleep. “ _You’ll feel better in the morning.”_ she had told him.

She was such a bloody liar!

“I can’t believe it.” he said, moving on his back and facing the ceiling.

“You can’t believe your boyfriend is also your worst enemy or you can’t believe you didn’t figure it out sooner?”

 He moved his hands up to cover his eyes, “Gods and stars above, I am so dumb!”  
“Yes, yes you are, little brother.” she added, probably with her annoying smirk on her lips.

“I just, was blind and didn’t want to see it, I guess.” he admitted, suddenly tired even though he had just woken up. “There was always the possibility of it being true, but I never wanted to consider the odds, you know?”. He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts:“He fucked up and now I know and this whole thing sucks so badly!”

 “He fucked up?!” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief, “My dearest little brother. You fucked up, big time actually.”  
“I fucked up? He was the one having a secret identity!” Arthur shot up in sitting position, throwing murderous looks at his sister.

She simply took another sip of her beverage, probably the blood of innocent puppies and kittens knowing the witch, although it merely looked and smelled of coffee. “He didn’t tell you he was Balinor and that he wrote the reviews. So what? It isn’t the end of the world.”

“It’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who was betrayed.”

“Betrayed? What are you, a middle ages Knight that has just been challenged at duel by his best friend for the maid’s hand?” she scoffed, “It’s not like he cheated on you, Arthur. He did his job, as you do, as I do, as everyone in this world does. And everyone had their secrets!”

“You don’t get it...” he began slowly, but was interrupted by Morgana’s raised voice.

“No. YOU don’t get it. You don’t get the sacrifices Merlin has gone through to do this, the times you’ve hurt him and he couldn’t say shit to you back. You called him the worst possible names known to mankind in the past year and you didn’t even realize it! So, no, Arthur. You don’t get why he never told you anything about his. Cause he knew how you would’ve reacted. He knew you’d freak out.”

“How do you know all of this?” She and Merlin were close, that he knew, but he didn’t think they were that close.  
“Cause I’m his fucking lawyer, you dumb loaf of stale bread!” she yelled back, her cup forgotten on the coffee table as he all but literally threw daggers at him with her eyes. “I read all his contracts and shit and I literally told him not to risk telling you about this cause I know you. You tend to always jump headfirst in every situation, not caring about the consequences and who you might hurt in the process. You don’t fucking think with your head most of the time. He wanted to let you know since the beginning, but I suggested otherwise. After all, his bosses were pretty rigid and he could’ve lost the job in the beginning. Now he could literally reveal himself in the paper and nobody could stop him. He is untouchable to anyone. But you.” Her voice had softened now, “He never told you cause he was scared of how you’d react and frankly he was right.”

Arthur was trying to wrap his head around her little speech, miserably failing. “If he only had been honest in the beginning none of this would’ve happened...”  
He did not see her hand fly to the back of his head, smacking him, before she said:“Have you dumb shit listened to anything I’d said just now? First he couldn’t and then he was in too deep and YOU FUCKING HATED HIM!”

Morgana threw her hands up in the air, exasperation clear in every movement, “Tell me, little brother. If the roles were reversed would’ve you done it? Or would you have kept it a secret cause the man you’re with literally hates part of you without even knowing it’s you.”

That managed to shut Arthur up for good. He didn’t know what to reply, so he simply kept his mouth shut and let her talk still.

Her eyes softened and her voice sounded less cold when she spoke again:“This is a really complicated telenovela-ish bullshit, I’ll give you that. And I understand you being shocked about it all, I’d be too.” She took a deep breath, hardening her features once more:“But don’t you dare blame him or shit like that, cause he was just doing his job and you love him and somehow he loves you as well. Although you’re a dumb annoying smelly donkey.”

“I didn’t come here to be insulted!”  
“Why, do you have somebody else that does it?” she asked with a wicked smile plastered on her lips.

“You better?” she asked eventually, resuming to her drinking.

In truth, Arthur was better, but he was not ready yet to admit it. He understood what had happened and why it had happened, but that didn’t erase the hurt he felt.

“I think so.” he said back.

“Thanks for getting me back onto the right path and letting me crash here.”

“No problem. You didn’t drool on the couch nor ruined my carpet, so I’ve got nothing big to complain about. You’re going back home?”

“No. I mean not yet.” he corrected himself at Morgana’s sharp glaring. “It’s already late and I should go at the restaurant.” It was a weak excuse and he knew his sister didn’t believe him, but he had no explanation other than the truth.

“Talk to you later?” he said just before leaving her apartment.  
“Talk to Merlin first!” she called back before he shut the door.

He would’ve, eventually. But at the moment his mind was still too foggy to have that conversation with him.

‘ _Soon,’_ he thought, _‘before the night is over.’_


	6. Friday night/Saturday morning

The apartment was completely silent when he entered it, too late for anyone to be up. He closed the door as quietly as possible, but it was still too loud in his ears.

He had waited the whole day, delaying the inevitable as much as he could. But he had to face the truth and the possible consequences of his actions now.

He felt the same way he had when he had come out to his father, two years prior. After living in fear, he had gathered enough courage to admit it and he also had Merlin by his side.

He smiled fondly at the memory. He had been idiotic, completely foolish in his reaction. Morgana was right: he merely was shocked and didn’t know how to react to the news. It took him the whole day and a big heart to heart with the guys during lunch to finally realize that that was, indeed, not the end of the world.

 _“Besides, if you break up with Merlin now he might fuck us up in the paper!”_ had said Gwaine, before being elbowed in the ribs by his husband.

 _“Merlin would never do something like that. He loves my chocolate soufflé way to much!”_ he said with a huge grin.

Arthur was deeply lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the soft sound of bare feet on the floor, coming towards him.

“Arthur?” asked a sleepy Merlin with bed hair and wearing only a pair of boxes and an oversized t-shirt that belonged to the blond.

His heart grew twice as much at the sight as he moved quickly towards the raven haired man to bury his head in the crook of his neck and wrap his arms tightly against him.

“I fucked up.” his voice barely a whisper.

Merlin immediately brought his arms up around him and simply stood there, holding him and waiting for him to reply.

After a few moments of silence, Arthur loosened his hold and looked into Merlin’s blue eyes, never moving away or stopping touching him.

“I spent the night at Morgana’s...” he began to say.

“Yeah I know, she texted me as soon as you fell asleep.”

He continued dismissing the interruption “...and we talked a little and she made me realize your reasons.”

“It’s okay, Art, really...”

Arthur stopped him before he could say more. He thought the whole day about how to make it right, but he was choked up. He managed to speak, though.“No, it’s not. I behaved like a jerk and I hurt you. Even when I didn’t know, I was too harsh. Even if it hadn’t been you, I still didn’t have to say all of that stuff, considering you were only writing truths.”

“Yeah, but my writing style tends to go more on the asshole way, so you were right sometimes.” Merlin conceded, sheepishly looking down.

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know, but all food critics write in a rather crude way so who am I to change the trend?” he asked with a small amused smile on.

They laughed softly, still one embraced in the other.  
“Do you forgive me?” Arthur asked quietly.

“Technically you haven’t apologized yet...”, the blond merely held on tighter as the writer ruffled his hair before planting a kiss on top of his head, “But of course I forgive you. You’re an idiot, but still my idiot!”

Arthur simply shook his head, happiness claiming every single ounce of his soul. “I forgive you too.”  
“I have nothing to apologize for!” Merlin said in an offended tone.

“I spent a night on Morgana’s couch because of you!”

“That was all on you, Mr Pendragon.” he claimed, poking his chest with a finger. Arthur wasted no time to move his own hand to wrap it around his.

“But I don’t really want you to sleep on Morgana’s couch anymore.” Merlin admitted softly, “That thing is really uncomfortable! Next fight you sleep on our own.”

“Well, then. I hope there’s not gonna be a next time cause our couch is impossible to sleep on too!”

They then made their way towards their bedroom, falling asleep one in the arms of the other.


	7. Monday morning

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the shit is out!” yelled Gwaine entering the kitchen.

Arthur scoffed at him, shaking his head. Merlin had finished writing the piece before they made up, but he was still confident that they had done a good job. There was no need to be afraid of Balinor’s judgment because they were all comfortable with their skill levels, and knowing that it came from Merlin eased all their agitation. One week prior it would’ve caused trepidation and fear in the five men, but now they were all relatively calm and curious.

 _“Can I please read it?”_ Arthur had whined all Saturday. _“No way in hell! I wouldn’t be a monster or a demon if I let you.”_

_“Please I’m dying to know!”  
“Then perish, Pendragon.”_

“For the first time, I’m excited to read that thing!” Percy squeaked, actually squeaked like a school girl that sees the sales at the mall.

“It is still gonna be brutal.” Lance reminded them all. His usual calm demeanour was broken by a nervous grin.

Arthur simply leaned against his counter, drying his hands with a rag before discarding it away. “Just spill it out! Rip the band-aid off, you Irish jerk.”

“Why is it that every time you have to insult me you always use my nationality? You never do it with Lance ad he is _Spanish!”_

 _“_ I was born here actually, thank you very much. Besides. I don’t have an accent.”

“Guys. Please focus. Gwaine, read that thing.”

“Okay, blondie okay.”

_***_

_“Good Monday to all of you, readers. This week, I ventured into a little restaurant that was supposed to be themed, or at least the name gives the vibe of a middle school boy’s choice of place for a birthday party._

_Trip Advisor gives them 4.8 stars and considers them a “home-like restaurant with awesome service and delicious food for a right price”, such a stark contrast to last week’s choice. Apparently there are some rumours, that I do not need nor want to dive deep in, about the Joust, last week’s poor choice, stealing clientele and recipes and the whole atmosphere from this one, “The Knights of the Table”._

_For such a preposterous name I truly expected a medieval theme of sorts, but I was welcomed by a rather vivid and plain black, gold and red colour palette. It almost felt too Gryffindor-ish for my Slytherin heart. And there was a too little amount of round tables, which I expected to be the focal centre of the décor. Truly a lost chance, considering that the owner and Head Chef’s name is Arthur, if the Maitre of the House is to be believed. Irony clearly flies above his head if he didn’t see this golden opportunity. However, most of my attention was caught by a large glass aquarium next to the kitchen doors. A rather practical position, to be able to get some of the fishes fresh from there, although in order to get them the waiters had to leave the kitchen to catch the poor sea creatures from our side of the house. Seems like someone got the thing up wrong, didn’t they?_

_Anyway, I was greeted by a beefy man with a thick Irish accent that immediately tried to woo and lure me in. Would’ve actually been cute if I didn’t spot the tanning lines on his left hand indicating the constant presence of a ring that was being clearly forgone for the job and if it wasn’t for the indomitable mess he had on his head. A cleaning mop would’ve been neater. Not to mention that he was keeping them down freely, shedding everywhere and giving everyone a front row to whatever his split ends were doing._

_Hair troubles aside, he seemed rather professional and occasionally flirty, but that is an understandable quality given his job as Host. I watched him easily charm the people that were seated at the nearby tables, inviting them to come by on a Saturday for that was the day the ‘jerks in the kitchen let him man the barbeque’. I am hereby transcribing verbatim, so if the so-called ‘jerks in the kitchen’ want to hire a new Host, they have proves. That man wasn’t bad per se, too flirty for my opinion, but there was something truly atrocious in his hairstyle that would haunt my dreams. It was a mixture of Fantaghirò and a wannabe Rapunzel that can’t get the length down._

_Considering it was a Thursday, I missed this rare joyous occasion of having him ‘man the barbeque’, but I don’t suppose I will swing by to try it as long as he doesn’t get a haircut. I’ll keep an eye out on you, Sir Gwaine._

_Getting back onto the path. I sat down and noticed that there was no comfort music, like in many places in town. There were quite a few clients, considering it was the middle of the week, and I took my time to ask the ladies next to me what they thought of it. Turns out, they were all regulars and came for the warm place and nice food, never skipping dessert because, as one of them said ‘The man who makes the desserts is an angel amongst men’. I would’ve found out for myself later anyway._

_As I was conversing with those kind ladies, a waiter brought me a wine menu, as well as a food one, and I simply asked for a glass of white to start, wanting to try out the fish variety to see if it would be disappointing._

_Now, onto the foods, shall we?_

_As an appetizer, I choose the mix of fried octopus and other friable fishes. I expected them to be golden brown on the outside and completely frozen on the inside, but they were surprisingly decently cooked, nor raw nor dry. But I would like to tell whoever was in charge of seasoning them that my heart thanks them for the copious amount of salt that they put in. I had to drink my whole glass of wine while eating them in order to not destroy my taste buds completely. It almost felt like they knew I was there and were actively trying to poison me, but one of the kind ladies of the company told me that they had a habit to over salt a little bit the fried stuff. Go figure._

_Then came the ‘Red Wedding Ravioli’. What an awful name, I suspected the Maitre had picked it. Spoiler alert, there was no blood nor did Rains of Castamere play in the background. But the idea behind it was interesting enough: ricotta and walnuts ravioli with a reduced red wine sauce? Couldn’t truly say I had ever heard of something like that. It was completed by an enormous amount of parmesan cheese that could’ve probably rivalled the snow on Mount Everest. The ravioli were perfectly cooked, somehow even the edges were not raw and the heart didn’t break. Whatever witchcraft the chef that prepared it, it was remarkable. Only the sauce was a slight problem, because it was drowned away by the cheese._

_Then it was the turn of the ‘Cod Barrow’. Again another terrible name that probably was given by the Maitre. It didn’t evoke at all the right images, but I was somehow lured by it. The presentation was made by a bad imitation of a falafel made of chickpeas that was used more like a pillow than a barrow, truth to be told. Side note, this dish would be great in case of a vampire attack due to the amount of garlic that was in it. Probably not a good thing to eat during a date, so heads up. With every bite I was pleasantly surprised that the fish wasn’t undercooked or overcooked, even though the outside wasn’t of the most inviting._

_After the meal, I was presented with a choice between a dessert cart or something to be made specifically. I opted for the former and choose a modern deconstructed millefeuille. I was dreading the awful name it might have, but I was informed that the desserts and the appetizers were left nameless. So in the end, the insufferable Maitre didn’t win it all!_

_About that dessert. I feel like someone needs to give the man that created it all the Michelin stars in the universe, an Oscar perhaps even. I am not going to go into details, but it might be the best thing I have eaten since leaving for university._

_The price was rather fair for the quality of the materials and the service, which was truly amicable._

_My main suggestion is for the dessert God in that kitchen to ditch the others and make the restaurant his pastry shop. I'd be his most frequent customer.”_

_***_

For the first time since those reviews took hold of the city, the five men laughed at Balinor’s jokes and did enjoy the article. It was witty and funny and very clever. Plus, Gwaine’s reactions were the peak of comedy.

 _“I don’t have an accent!”_ he said in the thickest one he could muster.

And “ _I DON’T CARE IF I LIKE MERLIN AND IF YOU TWO MADE UP. I AM GOING TO MURDER YOUR BOYFRIEND, PENDRAGON”_ he yelled in between reading the sentences about his hair.

 _“Relax Gwaine, you’re hair is fine_!” said Percival coming to wrap his arms around his husband’s torso to rest his head on top of the incriminated mop. It was indeed growing a little bit longer than usual, but Merlin had simply pointed it out in the most atrocious and hilarious way possible.

_“Pendragon, if your boo calls me Fantaghirò again I’ll dub him as Dumbo!”_

Raising his arms in defeat, he merely told the other man to call him whatever he wanted, but to finish reading the thing first, adding _“At your elementary school speed we’ll be here still till next Monday!”_

And “ _Percy don’t you dare ditch us just cause Merlin suggested it!”_

 _“He would never!”_ said a laughing Leon, before turning his smile down and whispering “ _Would you?_ ”

Percival just shook his head in response, laughing.

When Gwaine was done reading, the air all around them cleared. They did it. And not just because of their private relationships with the writer, but because of their own hard work and determination.

“I gotta say...” began Lance, “he is completely right about the lost occasion. I’ve been bugging you all for months to let me decorate this place as a medieval festival but nooooooo!”

“I will never hear the end of this, will I?” asked Arthur, putting his head in between his hands.

“Nope!” a chorus of four men came back at him, sing-song-ing before going back to their respective works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the link to the Fantaghirò haircut I was talking about.  
> https://images.app.goo.gl/vcV4JsyKiuZbPh6H7  
> Fantaghirò is an epic Italian show, a cult and just pure perfection, it's our Game of Thrones/medieval show

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I really hope you enjoyed this story  
> Please, don't forget to leave a kudo and maybe a comment if you liked!  
> Till next time  
> Jo


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